Page 39 of Quake

I love you more, my sweet boy.

***

Once back in from my walk with Pickles, arms filled with the biggest bouquet of red and pink flowers that I could find from one of the street vendors in the park, I pull out my phone. I figure I’ll text Kat to see if she happens to know Lark’s unit number.

I pluck a flower from the bouquet as I wait for a reply, placing it in a tall glass cup with water. This way, when they’re getting close to dying, I’ll know when to replace them.

Assuming she even wants me to be in her vicinity. I’m not exactly a very “fun” person to be around, so I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t.

She responds a few nerve-wracking minutes later.

Kat

236

Kat

But you didn’t hear it from me.

Kat

Kidding, I had to text her for the door number and told her you’d be over soon. Go get the girl Gi.

Thanks Kat. You’re the best.

Though she’s got no business lodging that little bit of hope in my chest the way she does.

“Hey, pretty girl, I’ll be back in a bit, okay? I don’t want Lark’s doggies getting upset about you being in their space.”

Her head bobs in understanding, but her ears are on high alert from my mention of Lark’s name. She’s even got my dog falling all over her.

I rush out, making my way to her floor, and the moment I’m at her door, my feet won’t move any farther, unable to take the extra step forward to knock.Should I leave?Is this too awkward?

“What would Alex tell me to do?” I ask myself quietly, considering this. With a huff, I rap my knuckles against the door, and as if she were waiting for me, her door bursts open. Her cheeks are flushed, her glossy hair splayed out around her shoulders.

God, she’s gorgeous.It takes everything in me not to groan at the sight of her.

“Hey, Gianni. Uh, come in.” She waves me inside.

Taking a step into her apartment and removing my shoes, I peer around the room. It’s exactly what I pictured from someone as vibrant as her. She has splashes of color all over and seemingly hundreds of photos framed and hung on every surface. It’s both overwhelming and chaotically beautiful.

“Sorry, I would’ve cleaned up, but I wasn’t expecting visitors,” she rushes to tell me, and the moment her eyes zero in on the massive bouquet of pink and red peonies, her eyes go wide, that round bottom lip jutting out. She redirects her eyes on me. “They’re beautiful,” she says, sounding breathless.

Apparently, I’m all in on this because the next words to leave my mouth leave usbothstunned. “Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman.” Her lips part, eyes dilating as she stares at me. My heart hammers in my chest, and I fight the need to cringe inwardly.1

I busy myself, heading into her kitchen to look for a vase as I leave her gaping at me in the living room. I find a dark-red one with a deep base and work to fill it up, then trim the ends of the stems. When I’m finished, I look over to see her seated on the countertop of the kitchen island behind me, watching my every movement.

It appears her normal spunk has reappeared. “And what brings you here, Mr. De Laurentiis?” She smirks at me.

“I came to make sure you were okay.” My words feel thick in my mouth as flashes of earlier play through my mind. I approach her, my hands resting on either side of her hips on the counter.

I watch as her pupils dilate, reacting to my proximity. The reaction has my dick hardening, and it seems she’s the only person to have that effect on me. It’s nice to know my dickeven works.

As she continues her blatant perusal of me, I take the time to do the same to her, no longer stealing glances but outright staring this time. She has a dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose, and her eyes are like pools of rust, emeralds, and liquid goldswimming together. My gaze dips down her neck, her breasts full as they make an effort to burst from her white tank top, but before I can make my way farther down, she clears her throat, causing my eyes to snap back to hers.

“See something you like, Mr. De Laurentiis?” she asks, her tone light and flirty. But that’s not why I came here, so I take a step back. One of the most difficult steps of my life, might I add.

“I always see something I like when you’re in a room with me, but you still haven’t answered my question.”

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